


Across The Hall

by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Awkward Flirting, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley swears a lot, English Teacher Aziraphale, Gifting Apples as a Love Language, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, They're both messes, World History Teacher Crowley, how did i forget that tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0
Summary: Mr. Anthony J. Crowley had been working at this school for a few years now, so he felt pretty confident that he knew what to expect for the start of the year. He knew how he wanted his classroom to be set up, he knew most students would love him, and he knew Principal Shadwell was afraid of him so he could teach exactly how he wanted. This year was going to be great and no one could throw him off course.Except for a new teacher with an enormous box full of books, apparently.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Anathema Device
Comments: 40
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! The entire plot for this exploded into my head in like 20 minutes and I have a feeling it's going to be a mess. I just hope it's an enjoyable mess?

Anthony J. Crowley was leaning against the door frame to his classroom, sipping his iced coffee and watching other teachers bustle around the halls of the school. Today was one of those days where teachers came in to set up their classrooms and discuss plans for the beginning of the school year. Crowley had been working here for a few years now, so he felt pretty confident that he knew what to expect for the start of the year. He knew how he wanted his classroom to be set up, he knew most students would love him, and he knew Principal Shadwell was afraid of him so he could teach exactly how he wanted. He was looking forward to this year. 

The sight of a woman with long dark waves of hair bouncing on her back pulling a frightened-looking man by the hand only proved to Crowley that his enthusiasm was warranted. A broad smile spread across his face before he called out, “‘Ey! Book girl!” she caught his eye and grinned. 

She gave a teasing gasp as she approached. “Is that… could it be? Ant-Man?!” he waved to her before quickly ducking into his classroom to set down his iced coffee in preparation for what was to come. He wasn’t fast enough, receiving a bone-crushing hug from behind. He squeaked slightly as all the air was squeezed out of him. 

When she released him, he turned around and laughed. “I take it you’ve missed me?” he drawled, leaning casually against his desk. 

“Of course I’ve missed you, you’ve been gone the whole summer! Speaking of which-” she punched him on the arm teasingly- “how was France?” his face softened at the memory. 

“Oh, Ana, the art was to _die_ for! Ugh, and the _architecture…_ exquisite,” he looked like he was in a dream. 

“Just the art and the architecture?” she asked teasingly. He looked at her blankly, not getting the joke. “C’mon, you’ve seen a rom-com! Did you indulge in any… little Parisian flings?” she poked him. 

He snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous, I had much better things to do in _Paris!_ I don’t need some little boy who wouldn’t even appreciate the gorgeous city in front of him and would rather whore around-”

“Jeez, jeez, I get it, romance isn’t your thing!” she said, glancing at the shy man standing at the threshold of the classroom. 

He chuckled, “Well not ‘little Parisian flings’ anyway,” he mimicked her voice by speaking in a higher tone. She rolled her eyes at him. “Where were you two headed so quickly when I saw you in the hall?” he inquired

“Oh! We-” she reached back to grab the gangly man’s hand and pull him forward- “were heading to check out the newly refurbished labs!!” 

The man laughed awkwardly, “Yeah… you could come with us if you’d like,” he said, trying to be polite. 

Crowley hummed. “No, thank you, Newton,” he picked up his iced coffee. “I’m quite content here people watching,” he took a slurping sip of the drink.

“Watching for anyone in particular?” Anathema asked. 

“Ummm yeah, actually,” he said, glancing out the door. “I’ve got a new neighbor. Well. Across the hall neighbor,” he pointed to an almost empty classroom that had its door directly across from his. 

Anathema tutted. “Please don’t scare ‘em, Crowley. Not everybody is as tough as me,” she glanced sideways at the man attached to her hand. 

“Ha! You think we’ll have another Newt on our hands?” Crowley referred to when he first met Newton. He had stayed eerily silent and just stared at him. When he slowly poked his tongue out at him Newt had quickly run for the door. 

“Maybe! I’m just saying- be nice,” she smiled up at him knowingly. 

“I’m _not_ nice, book girl,” he said, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense. She giggled before he waved them away, “Go on lovebirds, go see the new labs,” he smiled, heading towards the door to his classroom. 

“Alright, Crowley. See you at the prep meeting!” she called before whisking Newt away while he was still awkwardly waving goodbye. 

With a hand still held in the air as a farewell, Crowley returned to his leaning position on the door frame when he spotted a curly cloud of very pale blond, almost white hair quivering above a box that was overflowing with books. The person carrying the box was moving very carefully so that the precarious pile didn’t topple over. Unfortunately, there was a pencil on the floor right in the path. Crowley inhaled to warn the book-carrier but only managed a weak, “Hey-” before he watched the pencil roll under a foot and heard an “EEP!” Books went flying in every direction, mostly landing on a man who was now groaning on the floor. 

“Oh Hell, are you ok?” Crowley rushed over, brushing a few books off the man, and helping him sit up. 

“Ah, yes, I’m alright,” the man said blushing profusely at his current predicament. 

Crowley held out his hand to help him stand back up. When they were finally face-to-face he went rigid in awe at the gorgeously cherubic man in front of him. Despite the fact that Crowley was frozen to the spot, his stomach seemed to think it was on a rollercoaster! He snapped out of his daze when the man looked down at their still clasped hands and giggled nervously. “Oh. I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered as he released his hand. For some reason, words weren’t coming to him as easily as they normally would. 

“Don’t be silly, that was not at all your fault!” the man said, resting his hand on Crowley’s upper arm reassuringly before leaning down and picking up his many books and putting them back into the box. Crowley stared at him dumbfounded for a moment until remembering himself and reaching down to help. “Oh, thank you so much,” the angelic man smiled sweetly at him and Crowley made an unintelligible sound. 

“Where’re you headed with these?” Crowley asked, arms full of books. 

“Um…” the man shifted to hold the books in his right arm, looking at writing on his hand. “Room 213? Am I… headed in the right direction?” uncertain pale blue eyes seemed to peer into Crowley’s soul. 

“Ah- puh- ye- ri- er- ye- yeah, actually,” Crowley struggled to get out. He nodded to a doorway. The room directly across from his classroom. 

“Oh! Just my luck, falling right in front of where I needed to be,” the man beamed at him. Crowley made a weak noise of agreement and followed him into the classroom. The man set the box down on the desk that came with the room, Crowley followed suit with his armfuls of books. The man turned to him, “Thank you _so_ much, Mr…?” 

Crowley just stared at him for two seconds too long. “Crowley!” he blurted. “Anthony J. Crowley,” he gave a tight smile and held out a hand for a handshake. 

The man in question took his outstretched hand in both of his, “Aziraphale Fell,” he smiled up at him through pale eyelashes. 

Crowley laughed despite himself. “Aziraphale Fell?” he repeated. The man simply nodded. “Ha! Your parents actually named you that?” the words came out harsher than he had meant them to. 

“Yes, they _actually_ did,” Aziraphale said cooly, quickly releasing Crowley’s hands. “Thank you very much for your help, Mr. Anthony J. Crowley,” his smile was less genuine this time and he quickly turned on his heel and left, presumably to carry in more enormous boxes of books. 

Crowley watched him walk away, his heart feeling like it was spinning downwards in a draining bathtub towards a sewer of failure. 

~×~

Crowley was speed walking towards the labs in the science department, agitatedly typing a text to Anathema: “I ROYALLY FUCKED UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” 

After a few seconds, he saw the dots that meant she was replying. They were abruptly cut off, however, when his entire phone screen lit up with an incoming call from “Book Girl.” He answered. 

“What did you do,” it was much more a statement than a question. 

“The new teacher. My new- the teacher from across the hall!” he responded, slightly out of breath. 

“Oh God,” she said, more to herself than to him. “What happened?!” 

“He- he- fuck, Anathema- he’s hot!!” Crowley stopped to lean against a locker in despair. 

He was close enough to the labs that he heard her guffaws of laughter from over the phone _and_ echoing down the hall. 

He groaned and hung up, running the rest of the way to her. He found the young woman bent over in laughter and Newt standing nervously next to her. “Hi,” Crowley said unenthusiastically. Anathema stood up, looked at him, and burst out into more laughter. Crowley grumbled, “It really isn’t that funny, Ana, I _completely ruined_ any chance with him!!” he moaned and slid down to sit on the recently cleaned floor. 

“Oh, Crowley, I assure you it really is _‘that funny,’”_ Anathema gets out breathlessly. 

“ARGH!!” Crowley pulls on his shoulder-length waves of red hair in despair. 

After a few more minutes Anathema’s stomach is starting to hurt and she tries to calm down, “Hoooo okay!” she breathes out. “So,” she slaps her thighs. “You’re a high school teacher who’s got a cringy, high school grade crush on the new teacher. Tell me again that your life isn’t a romcom…” she snorts at the look of rage and disgust Crowley gives her. “And what _exactly_ happened with him that you feel like you ‘royally fucked up’?” she asked.

“I maybe, kinda, sorta… made fun of his name…” Crowley says sheepishly, more to the floor than to his best friend. 

“Crowley-! Wait, what’s his name?” Anathema asked, interrupting her own reprimanding. She knew Crowley was a sweetheart, he was just sometimes too honest and came off as rude unintentionally. And sometimes intentionally. 

“Aziraphale Fell,” Crowley spoke the name like the new teacher was an angel from Heaven. 

“Okay, that is a little ridiculous,” Anathema admitted, trying to make Crowley feel better for the slip of his tongue. “What did you say about it?” 

“I asked him if his parents actually named him that,” Crowley finally turned to look at Anathema. 

She tilted her head to the side. “Harsh, but not _nearly_ as bad as it could have been,” she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Gahh, but it’s a lost cause, Ana,” Crowley explained a bit dramatically. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that just yet!” Anathema squeezed his shoulder. 

“Mmm, you didn’t see the way his demeanor changed after I said it. It was like going to sleep in the summer and waking up to snow and carolers on your doorstep!” he said, sounding distressed.

“You’d know something about that,” she muttered. Crowley liked to sleep. A lot. It was practically all he did during winter break. She always made fun of him for ‘hibernating.’ “Well, I still don’t think it’s a lost cause. Why don’t you go back and help him unpack and set up his room? Or ask him to lunch?” Anathema suggested. 

Crowley gaped at her in horror. “Ask him on a lunch date? After I _made fun of his name???_ I can _not_ do that,” he said, crossing his arms. 

She laughed in disbelief. “You are _such_ a child sometimes, you know that? You can’t avoid him forever, he’ll be teaching right across the hall,” she said reasonably. Newt nodded in silent agreement. He understood that when things got intense for Crowley he mainly wanted to hear from Anathema. If Newt had something important to say he was not afraid to say it, but he was perfectly fine keeping his mouth shut and letting his girlfriend do most, if not all, the talking. 

“I can try,” Crowley said bitterly, not in the mood to be reasonable. 

_“Really,_ Crowley-” Anathema started to chew him out but was interrupted by Newt. 

“If you don’t want to ask Azeerafell-” he sped through the pronunciation quickly, not wanting it to be obvious he had no idea how to say it properly- “out to lunch why don’t you come with us? It might help you get your mind off things,” Newton suggested kindly. He knew Anathema was about to go off on Crowley and he didn’t think the upset man needed that right now. 

“Alright, that sounds good,” Crowley said, starting to stand up. “Thanks, Newt,” he said genuinely. Newton awkwardly gave him a pat on the back before they headed to the nearest cafe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Please let me know if you liked this because I am ✨insecure✨ about this story haha. It's probably going to be really inconsistent in like every way just hhhnnnggggggg someone stop me from continuing to berate myself!!!!!! Ok!!!!!! But yes, please leave comments and kudos, they mean the world to me! Thank you so much for reading <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has finally- kinda-sorta-maybe- worked up the confidence to actually have a conversation with the new teacher!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! I was really surprised by the number of comments my first chapter got, I know it wasn't like A TON but it meant a lot to me and I just basked in all of your appreciation and I want to THANK YOU for all being lovely. 
> 
> But anyway! The next chapter is here! This one is considerably shorter, but I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> **The only potential CW I can think of is that there is a considerable amount of swearing.**

Crowley had successfully avoided Aziraphale for almost a month now. Anathema thinks he’s being ridiculous, and he probably is. 

But now it’s the first day of school. 

He’s had 22 days to prepare himself for this. 

He will no longer stay away from Aziraphale Fell. 

He’s waiting at his desk in his classroom, his leg bouncing like mad. For the first time in forever, he’s more anxious for a teacher to show up than for the students. 

Finally, Aziraphale appears. Maybe he shouldn’t say ‘finally.’ The man is 47 minutes early, after all. But Crowley had gotten here two hours early, not wanting to risk arriving after the new teacher. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t even glance towards Crowley’s classroom. His determination is wavering as it is. 

It may be both a blessing and a curse that - by some act of God - Aziraphale set his desk up in a position that - when they’re both sitting down - Crowley can see the back of his head of pale curls. The only problem with this was that Crowley usually didn’t sit at his desk. When he was striding and moving all about the classroom (which was rare) he most often stood in front of the desk, half-leaning, half-sitting on it. 

Scratch that. Apparently, there were two problems with this arrangement. The second being that Aziraphale could turn and look at Crowley as well. Which he just did. 

Crowley turned away quickly and tried to look normal, in a similar fashion of a student that had been caught cheating. 

He looked back after about thirty seconds and thankfully the other man had returned his gaze to the papers on his desk. 

Crowley exhaled shakily from his nose. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Perhaps he should keep pretending Aziraphale Fell did not exist and there was just an empty classroom across the hall with not even a trace of a man that definitely was not the potential love of his life-

_No!_ He had this all planned out in his head and he’d be _damned_ if he was going to mess it up now. 

He stood up and placed a hand on his desk to support his thin legs that were trembling. 

_That’s new,_ he thought as he reached his unsteady hand into a brown paper bag and retrieved the item that gave him reason to speak to the new teacher: an apple. 

Although the walk from his classroom to the one across the hall probably could have taken him around six normal strides, he did it in eleven. His legs were wobbling and he stopped a few times, having to continuously work up the nerve to make his way to the adorable man’s classroom. 

_He’s just another teacher. He’s probably not even as great as you’ve made him out to be in your head! Stop. Trembling. Be cool. You are cool! You are confident! You are gorgeou- oh shit oh shit oh shit he’s turning oh shIIIIT-_

“Oh! Hello, Anthony!” Aziraphale smiled up at him as Crowley shuffled his way into his classroom. 

“Hullo,” _WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!??!!_ He cleared his throat and tried to look nonchalant. “How’s it goin’?” _IT’S GOIN’ PRETTY AWFULLY ON YOUR END I CAN TELL YA THA-_

Aziraphale chuckled. “Not too well, I’m afraid. I seem to have a rather bad case of the first day jitters,” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Oh, well, er-” he coughed awkwardly- “That’s kinda why I’m here, I- um. Here. This is for you,” his arm shot out towards Aziraphale, his hand bearing the apple with a heart carved into it- _With a- WITH A HEART CARVED INTO IT????? NOOOOO YOU FIDGETY BASTARD!!!! YOU MUST HAVE DONE IT WHILE HE WAS TALKING!!! WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK-_

“Ah! How sweet of you,” Aziraphale’s warm fingers brushed Crowley’s as he took the apple from his outstretched hand. He smiled down at it very tenderly, and then up at Crowley. The darkly clothed man stopped breathing. “Thank you _so much_ for bringing such a lovely start to my day. Hopefully this is a good omen, and the rest of my day will be as pleasant as you!” he said. The words he used seemed too enthusiastic to be genuine, but the tone with which he spoke them paired with a dazzling smile, made him appear entirely sincere. 

“N-nuh. Don’t mention it,” Crowley somehow managed to walk out of the classroom on legs made of jelly, screaming internally. 

When he finally collapsed onto the chair behind his desk he smiled as giddily as a schoolboy. “That… that… could’ve been worse,” he quietly said to himself. He hated to get his hopes up so quickly, especially as someone who usually laughed in the face of people who had _crushes_ or those who would do anything for a brief run-in with romance. He and Aziraphale had barely talked. This was nothing to write home about. He had just given him an apple, that was all. That didn’t even imply he was at all interested, all that did was show Aziraphale that he wasn’t just a prick who makes fun of people for their names (although, if he’s being completely honest, he’s not entirely sure that he is anything more than a prick who makes fun of people for their names).

None of these thoughts prevented his giddy grin to widen astronomically as he watched Aziraphale take a bite of the fruit, and wiggle happily in his chair at the sweet taste. He felt the way his heart hammered against his ribcage, all because he knew that that happy wiggle was because of something he had done. He had made Aziraphale happy, and that had made him happy. 

In that moment he decided he might just have to be unbearably selfish; he might just have to keep on giving Aziraphale apples. Because it made him feel happy and giddy and he loved the rush of it. Not because he was _kindhearted_ or _generous._ No. He was selfish, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the second chapter :) Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Thank you so much for reading <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is perplexed when his new acquaintance, Anthony, starts giving him apples with numbers carved into them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii guys, it's taken longer than I would've liked to update this but life got in the way :/ I hope you guys like this chapter, today we get to see Aziraphale's side of things!!

It had not been a great first day for the new teacher. The students all seemed bored by him, and he had a feeling they would not become more interested in what he had to say when he began to teach them about classic literature. 

So far, the only potentially good thing about this new job was the teacher across the hall from him, Mr. Anthony J. Crowley, as he had introduced himself. He did not look like a teacher; in fact, Aziraphale was pretty sure he was breaking some of the school’s dress codes on a daily basis. He always seemed to wear sunglasses and all-black, tight clothes that left little to the imagination. 

When Anthony had made fun of him for his name Aziraphale had immediately jumped to the conclusion that his appearance matched his personality, and it was just a fluke that he had been kind enough to help him with his books. He probably pitied him, that was all. But, when he went back to his flat that night and thought it over, he decided that maybe he had been too hasty with his initial instinct to become icy. He would give the man another chance. And if he was rude again, well, that would be that. 

However, he was not rude again. He brought him an apple. Showed him kindness in a time when no one else seemed apt to, all too wrapped up in their own affairs (not that he particularly blamed them, as he was quite preoccupied with his thoughts as well). And Anthony had even carved a little heart into it, how adorable was that!? 

But Aziraphale was still wary of the other gentleman. He had not fully proven himself to be a good person. But, when he came into the new teacher’s classroom again, on the second day of school, he began to feel less doubtful of the man. 

This time he knocked on the opened door, thrice. “G’mornin’,” he said as he peaked his head into the room. 

“Ah! Hello again, Anthony! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Aziraphale asked, trying to sound calm. 

“I jus’ wanted to see how you were doing. How did your first day go, yesterday?” he asked, sauntering into the classroom, with his hands presumably clasped behind his back. 

Aziraphale sighed, “Lousy. I’m afraid I’ve been rather spoiled by the students from my old small-town school who all knew who I was and were excited to have me as a teacher,” he laughed sheepishly, looking up at the tall man.

“Ah, ‘m sorry to hear it,” he said, sounding genuinely sorry. Aziraphale made a mental note of this; the man had sympathy for the toils of others. “Hopefully your day will be better today,” he said while placing another apple on Aziraphale’s desk. Without another word or even a mention of his gift, he strolled back out of the classroom. 

“Thank you!” Aziraphale called after him. 

He lifted up a hand in a small wave but did not turn around. 

Aziraphale picked up the apple but kept his smiling eyes staring after Anthony until he was out of view, fully into his own classroom. When he turned to look at the apple his expression morphed into one of confusion. Why on Earth had he carved a seven into it?

~×~

Anthony continued to visit Aziraphale’s classroom at the beginning of every day, bearing the gift of a numbered apple and the promise of some delightful small talk. The new teacher was glad to have a sort of acquaintance who brought him delicious apples (he would never say no to food), but he was perplexed by the seemingly random string of numbers that were carved into them. 

He had been jotting them down on a sticky note on his desk, just in case they would be important for later. So far, they just seemed meaningless. Aziraphale had tried corresponding them to the order of the letters in the alphabet, but he came up with far too many F’s for it to be a word. Maybe it was in another language? He certainly hoped not, his German was fading from memory, Italian was a blur, Spanish was quite rusty, and to be honest he had never gotten the hang of French. He was still decent in Latin, though, but he doubted Mr. Crowley would be leaving him a coded message in a dead language. Furthermore, he was bad with computers and could not, for the life of him, figure out how to use Google Translate (in fact, he considered it an accomplishment that he even knew it existed). 

After eleven days of numbered apples, Anthony began to bring him blank ones. This was even more baffling to Aziraphale! 

On the second day with a blank apple, Aziraphale decided he’d go into Anthony’s classroom during lunch and ask him about it. 

“You’ve got this Aziraphale, you are a lovely chap and he will be delighted to have a visit from you!” the new teacher gave himself a pep talk as he prepared to enter the classroom. 

The door was open but he still felt it rude not to knock. Now, hand poised in knocking-position, he heard laughter spilling out of the room. Feminine laughter. Did Anthony have his girlfriend in there with him??? Aziraphale felt the urge to trot back to the safety of his own classroom, tail between his legs, but his hand betrayed him by coming down to meet with the wood of the door. He had officially knocked. Made his presence known. There was no turning back now. 

“Come in!” the feminine voice called. 

Aziraphale entered tentatively. “Ah, hello,” he said, voice shaky, revealing how nervous he was. He was being silly, really. It was perfectly reasonable to visit a colleague’s classroom, and he was being very polite about the whole thing. He need not worry! 

He was very worried. Terrified even.

He did, however, relax slightly at the sight of the woman he presumed was the owner of the feminine voice with her leg comfortably resting in another man(decidedly _not_ Anthony)’s lap. (Why would this revelation calm him? Why would it matter if his new acquaintance (friend??) had a girlfriend? No - _no,_ he did _not_ have the time for silly inquiries at the moment.)

All three occupants of the room sat in desks. The woman and the man Aziraphale did not know had their desks pushed together in a way that made them almost look like they were sitting on a bench, with Anthony sitting facing them. Well. That is if you opted to call how he had draped himself over the desk _sitting._ He had one leg bent over the corner of the table part of the desk, while the other rested in a more usual-looking position. He did not look very well balanced at all, which was why it was not entirely a surprise to Aziraphale that, when he craned his neck around to see who had entered the classroom, he squeaked and proceeded to fall onto the floor. 

Despite not being entirely surprised, Aziraphale still let out an, “Oh dear!” and hurried over to help the man up. “Are you quite alright?” 

“I - er - y-y-y-yeah,” Anthony croaked. 

When Aziraphale glanced up at the faces of the two others in the room, he saw the man with a petrified look on his face and the woman grinning gleefully. 

After having helped Anthony onto his feet, Aziraphale went over to the couple. “I believe we haven’t met! I’m Aziraphale, I teach English across the hall from Anthony’s classroom,” he extended a hand towards the man (he was closer to him), but the woman grabbed it. 

“Aziraphale! A true pleasure to meet you! I’m Anathema Device, I teach chemistry. I’ve heard so much about you from _Anthony,”_ she said, her grin ever-present. 

“Ahaha… really?” Aziraphale glanced back at the black-clad man. He could tell his eyes were extremely wide even through the sunglasses. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure!!” the woman - Anathema - confirmed. 

“Goodness! All positive things, I hope?” Aziraphale felt his face heating up. 

“Oh, yes yes, only _great_ things,” she nodded a bit too vigorously for Aziraphale’s liking. 

“And you are…?” Aziraphale turned his attention to the man sitting next to Anathema. 

“Newt! Newton Pulsifer!” the man shook his hand. Aziraphale noticed that his palms were slightly sweaty. 

“He teaches physics in the classroom right next to mine! Neighboring classroom love stories are just divine, don’t you think?” she asked Aziraphale, patting Newton’s arm affectionately and occasionally glancing behind the new teacher to her friend. 

“Ah yes! Truthfully, I find all true love stories to be just darling,” he said happily. 

“Funny you should say that! _Anthony_ here was just going on and on about-” 

“What are you doing here Aziraphale?” Anthony interrupted Anathema urgently. 

“Oh! I just came to er… pose a question to you!” he turned to smile at his acquaintance. 

“What is it?” he said rather gruffly. 

“I was just… wondering… why the apples you’ve been giving me no longer have numerals carved into them?” he asked quickly. 

“What?” Anathema asked, sounding tremendously interested. Her eyes were wide and she looked beyond elated at this piece of information. 

“It-it's nothing! No reason!” Anthony said, his already flustered demeanor now seeming to be turned up to eleven with the way his voice ventured out of its usual deep tone and became almost shrill. 

“Oh, Aziraphale, I have no clue what this is but I assure you it is the opposite of _nothing,”_ Anathema chimed in again. 

_“Ana,_ would you please _shut it,”_ Anthony hissed. Aziraphale feared the man was frightfully enraged, but Anathema looked very calm. 

“No, Crowley, I will not,” she said evenly. Aziraphale was honestly surprised there was no literal smoke coming from Anthony’s ears. Newt looked as close to bolting as the new teacher felt. 

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to intrude or-or anything. I think I’d best get going,” Aziraphale peeped. “It was lovely meeting you two,” he nodded to Anathema and Newton before scurrying out of the classroom. 

In his hurry, he bumped into a woman with brilliantly red hair that rivaled Anthony’s. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed. 

“My dear lady!” Aziraphale grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. “Apologies. I seem to have forgotten to watch where I am going,” he said unhappily. 

“Aw, that’s alright, _mon cheri,”_ she patted him on the arm with a smile and proceeded to enter Anthony’s classroom. 

If the saying was true, and birds of a feather really did flock together, Anthony certainly flocked with an odd bunch. Aziraphale did not know what to think; he felt he left the classroom with a thousand more questions and positively no answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy that was the third chapter :) Any comments or kudos you want to leave are deeply appreciated :D Thank you so much for reading!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale continues to attempt to figure out what the numbered apples mean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Those of you who remember reading that there were _ten_ numbered apples... you are close to my heart because you read it before I edited it XD Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Aziraphale was dreading today. He did not get much sleep last night. He was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what on _Earth_ the numbers could possibly mean and worrying that asking about them yesterday had been a _dreadful_ mistake. What if Anthony stopped bringing apples all together? It might be for the best, really. Aziraphale had met the kind of people Anthony liked to hang around, and he definitely did not fit into that bunch. They were probably going to stay acquaintances from now on. Acquaintances that maybe could have been more, if only Aziraphale had some quick wit to spare. 

The English teacher sat at his desk with his head in his hands, thinking all these despairing thoughts, and didn’t notice Anthony’s presence until he placed an apple on the desk in front of him. He startled and looked up at the man with a very relieved smile that failed to hide the weariness in his eyes all the same. 

“Oh, hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, reaching for the apple while still looking into Anthony’s dark sunglasses. Internally, he was hoping desperately that Anthony would not act differently, would keep up their easy-going friendship. 

“‘S no problem,” he leaned on the desk casually. “How are you… doing?” he asked awkwardly like he wasn’t used to showing he cared. Of course. He’d walked in on Aziraphale moping, of course he’d be worried. 

“Same as ever, not fantastic, but not too shabby,” he gave him another weak smile.

Anthony hummed, then paused for a moment before saying, “Well, I mean, if you ever wanted to… Just - my door’s always open. Well - it’s not - I-I close it during classes,” he was looking out Aziraphale’s door to his classroom as though he longed for the safety of it. 

Aziraphale laughed, feeling very relieved. Anthony wasn’t treating him any worse and was actually proving how much he cared for him! “I understand what you mean. Thank you, Anthony, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, placing his hand atop the history teacher’s which was still supporting some of his body weight against the desk. Anthony’s head snapped around to look at the point of contact. It only lasted for a brief moment before Aziraphale drew his hand back to himself. Anthony lifted his hand off the desk, staring intently at it and flexing it a bit. 

“Goo-good,” he said, floating towards the exit of the classroom. 

Aziraphale’s mind was reeling. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t ask. He shouldn’t- oh blast it! “Anthony!” Aziraphale called when he had already taken two steps into the hallway.

He turned around. “Yea?” he replied, leaning against the door frame of the English classroom.

“Am I… meant to add them together?” Aziraphale asked with a shy hopefulness. 

Anthony made a noise in his throat that was somewhere between a squeak and a groan. “Nope,” he said with a wavering voice before he sauntered disjointedly away into his classroom.

Aziraphale sighed. He was definitely still puzzled, to say the least. But no longer despairing. They were still on good terms, and that was enough for now. 

~×~

Thoughts of the mysterious numbers filled his head throughout the whole day. He assigned a lot of free reading time in all of his classes so he could prolong his pondering. They weren’t meant to be added together. They didn’t spell anything with meaning- not in English at least. Were they some kind of ranking system? Was he rating the quality of the apples? Aziraphale’s thoughts continued to become more and more outlandish, and by the end of the day he had even given up on trying to get the students to actually read. He knew the majority of them were just whispering among themselves and holding books. At this point, he hardly cared. 

The final bell was going to ring in three minutes. He’d be free to go home and ignore his incompetence with the help of some cocoa and poetry. That would be positively lovely. He could even blast some of his favorite Beethoven Symphonies! He’d start with the Seventh Symphony, that one was always good for-

He was popped out of his thoughts when he saw a paper airplane go shooting across the classroom. If the student who threw it had been looking at him they would have gotten off with a stern gaze. Unfortunately for both Aziraphale and the student, they were too preoccupied watching the girl they had thrown the airplane to investigate it. 

Aziraphale sighed as he got up to head over to their desk. “Dakota,” they startled at his whisper, having been so interested in watching the other student that they didn’t hear him walking up to them. 

They turned to look at him for a second before looking back to the recipient of the paper airplane. “So sorry, Mr. Fell. It won’t happen again,” he knew their apology could have been more sincere but he did not have the energy to ask them to change their behavior. 

“It had better not,” he said trying to sound at least vaguely like he meant it, but only sounding tired. 

The bell rang while he was heading back to his desk. “Have a good weekend!” he said to the class at large. He received a fair amount of ‘you too’s as most of the students left the classroom. 

Three girls were a bit behind. One of them - Natalia - appeared to be waiting for the other two. “C’mon guys, the bus _will_ leave without us,” she encouraged. 

One of the pair - Catherine - flashed her an apologetic smile, while the other - Michaela - completely ignored her. “It’s from Dakota?” she asked. 

Catherine nodded with an excited smile. 

“Ohhhh my God Cathyyyyyy!!!!!!” Michaela hugged the curly-haired girl who was blushing insanely. 

“They even drew a heart,” she said, sounding dreamy. 

“Awwwwnnn!!! That’s _so_ cute!!!!! Isn’t that just _so_ exciting Lia?!!?!” Michaela asked, now jumping around Natalia. 

“Yes. It is very exciting. I’m just thrilled for you Catherine. But I would also be thrilled by not having to _walk_ home! Let’s go, you two can freak out on the way,” she said, not unkindly. 

“She’s right,” Catherine said through an awkward laugh. 

“But! Just!! It’s not every day your crush gives you their _phone number!!!!!!”_ Michaela said, shaking Catherine. But she might as well have been shaking _Aziraphale_ and yelling in _his_ face with the way she made him come to a realization. 

“A phone number…” he mumbled to himself while drumming his fingers on his chin before furiously tearing his desk drawer open. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…” _ELEVEN._ The right amount for a phone number!!! He laughed breathily with relief. This had to be it. He ran a hand through his curls with a shaky sigh. 

“Have a nice weekend, Mr. Fell,” Natalia said, leading the girls on their way out of the classroom. 

“Yes! Thank you so much! You as well!” he said with a lot of enthusiasm that was rather surprising to the children. He was ordinarily relatively quiet and collected. 

Catherine gave him an awkward smile before she was dragged out of the classroom by the excited Michaela. 

Aziraphale just sat there for a moment, feeling giddy with this realization that just _had_ to be the answer. “Oh!” he said, realizing he should ask Anthony to confirm his theory! 

He got up to head across the hall but found it packed full of children, as per usual at this time of day. This was ok, he could wait. He bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. He had figured it out! With the help of an impish child and an over-excited one, of course. But, then again, who was he to call anyone _over-excited,_ what, with the energy coursing throughout his entire body and the butterflies that were currently flying rampant in his stomach. 

However, they were all brought to a screeching halt and replaced with a deep pit of dread when he saw a tall, slim man in sunglasses and all black with a bright-red, half-up-half-down head of hair exit the World History classroom. 

“Anthony!” the man continued walking away from him. Aziraphale started to walk among the students as well, determined to reach him. “Anthony!!” he called again, with even more desperation, but by now he was already climbing the stairs and was quickly out of Aziraphale’s reach. “Anthony,” he said sadly to himself. 

A few students gave him dirty looks for walking against the flow of bodies back to his classroom. 

He collected his things sadly and prepared to leave. He turned out the light and locked the classroom door. 

He rejoined the now smaller horde of students and headed for the exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah! I left us on a cliff hanger. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Any comments or kudos you leave make me smile <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale calls Crowley!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I'm so sorry, I haven't updated since literally last year!!! I feel so bad about that... but I hope you can forgive me, and I hope you will like this chapter :)

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone down brightly on the changing colors of the leaves, the air was crisp, and the whole environment seemed to emanate a sense of pleasant correctness, like every single person who could see the sun at this moment was exactly where they should be. 

Aziraphale did not notice any of this. He stared at the ground and thought disparagingly about how he wouldn’t be able to see Anthony again for _two whole days,_ which wouldn’t normally seem very long to him at all, but for some reason, everything that had to do with Anthony felt _quite_ out of the norm and kept getting a little blown out of proportion in Aziraphale’s mind. 

He flinched a little when a girl he was walking by spoke loudly, “Nah, girl, I swear I didn’t even study for it!” she had her Airpods in and was staring at her screen where another girl appeared to be laughing in disbelief. 

Aziraphale sighed. If only he could-

Wait a minute. 

If he was right, and Anthony’s random string of numbers were actually his phone number then… Aziraphale could call him! 

He quickly hurried off the sidewalk to stand under a brilliantly red tree and rummaged through his bag for his ancient Nokia cell phone. He knew he was unbearably behind technology-wise and he did not care. The phone still worked, and that was good enough for him. 

He punched in the numbers fervently and tapped his foot anxiously as he listened to the phone ring. 

Finally, a voice spoke. “Hi, this is Anthony Crowley-”

“Anthony!” Aziraphale excitedly exclaimed, but was interrupted as the man on the phone continued. 

“-you know what to do, do it with style,” there was a beep. 

Aziraphale couldn’t help himself; he laughed with glee. “Hello, Anthony! I see that you can’t come to the phone right now, that’s fine! I’m just-” he laughed again- “I’m so glad I figured out what the numbers meant!! Call me back, if you want… anything! Call me for anything,” he concluded with a nod that would not be seen in the voicemail. “Pip pip!” and with that, he hung up the phone. 

He was practically skipping the whole way home. He was positively elated that he had cracked the code! And that it was something so… so… _promising!_ This implied that Anthony wanted to spend more time with him, wanted to be _social_ with him!! 

Obviously, Aziraphale had had teacher friends at his old school, but he really only saw them at work and possibly before or after school events; this… this felt as though it held a certain degree of intimacy that he was not yet accustomed to. But, oh, he was so ready to dive right in. To make himself at home in this new world, to become comfortable with talking to Anthony in any of his free moments.

Perhaps he was getting a little ahead of himself; Anthony most likely did not feel quite as strongly about Aziraphale as the English teacher felt about him. Aziraphale had a tendency to be overly zealous, especially at the beginning of relationships. In the past he had been a bit too… _himself_ too quickly, and ended up scaring people away. He _refused_ to let that happen with Anthony. He needed to take several steps back before he ended up diving straight into the deep end - that had never ended well for him in the past and it couldn’t possibly be different this time. 

… Except that it _could._ There was always that minuscule chance that this time would be different! The small potential for Anthony to like him just how he is and not mind that he had strange interests and mannerisms! The possibility that he would not abandon Aziraphale for reasons unbeknownst to him! But the odds of that were… low. Very, very low. 

So Aziraphale decided not to dream of something that could be, but instead celebrate this for what it was. This was a step in the right direction, no doubt! This was good. This was wonderful, and he would not dare to ruin it. Absolutely not. 

He was now turning the key to his small house. Unbuttoning his coat and preparing himself for further consideration of the situation. 

He imagined Anthony would be happy to hear from him. Impressed that he figured out the numbers, maybe. Aziraphale wiggled happily in his armchair at the thought. When Anthony listened to the message his lips would turn upwards in that serpentine smile he got when Aziraphale said something amusing. He’d probably say something like “Ohhh, Aziraphale,” (not to be confused with “Oh. Aziraphale.”) with the sort of happiness that could be _heard_ in his voice. He’d almost certainly-

Oh. Oh wait. Oh. Oh no. Oh dear. Had he… he must have… right? Oh _God._ He hadn’t. He- he didn’t mention his name. How would Anthony know it was him??

He made a fussy sound before praying that his voice was recognizable enough and the history teacher would be able to tell who it was. 

Aziraphale sighed and headed over to his gramophone. Apparently the Beethoven would be coming in handy after all. 

He started making himself a cup of cocoa, trying to use the familiar routine to calm his nerves. It worked… kind of… a bit… yes, alright, it didn’t work. He was still anxious as ever that he had mucked everything up once again. 

“Aziraphale, you dimwitted ninny,” he berated himself quietly. “You know telephone etiquette by heart! How could you forget something like that, you preposterous-” 

He was interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone. 

He froze where he was for a moment. 

Could it be…? Well, there was only one way to find out. 

He hesitantly clicked the button to accept the call and lifted the phone to his ear in a sort of daze. 

After what felt like an eternity of silence, the caller spoke. “Er… hello? Is this… is this Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale felt the anxious knot in his stomach untie itself all at once at the sound of that voice and he felt faint with relief. Nonetheless, he was considerably shellshocked. That this was real, that _Anthony J. Crowley_ was calling him. He wondered, for a moment, what the J stood for, before remembering that Anthony expected him to respond. “Y-yes, this is he,” he answered his question. 

He heard a sigh of laughter. “‘Right. Hi,” Anthony said, with an audible smile. 

Aziraphale felt something in his chest seize up when he imagined that smile. “I assume this is Anthony?” he choked out.

Another badly hidden laugh. “Yeahhhh. ‘This is he,’” he playfully mocked in a higher tone of voice. 

Aziraphale needed to sit down. He felt positively dizzy. “O-oh. Marvelous,” he said breathily. 

“‘S a big word for a Friday evening,” Anthony drawled, poking fun. 

“Mm,” Aziraphale hummed through a smile, melting into his armchair as he began feeling more relaxed with Anthony’s familiar teasing. “I’m afraid you’ll find I’m quite partial to big words, dear boy.” 

“Ahh, should’ve known. A stuffy old English teacher who’s a walking thesaurus. Nothing’s ‘good,’ it’s all ‘marvelous’ or ‘splendid,’” he joked. Normally if someone was saying something like that Aziraphale would take offense, but there was a quality in Anthony’s tone of voice that made the English teacher believe that he didn’t mean it in a harmful way. Was it… fondness? No, no, it couldn’t be. Something else that Aziraphale was unfamiliar with identifying.

He gave an awkward laugh at the joke before blurting out the question that he had been trying not to think about since his foolish mind had conjured it into existence. “Why’s it your number?” he squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t really meant to ask that, it was probably considered rude, now Anthony was certainly uncomfortable-

“What, you want someone else’s number?” he tried to continue to tease, but Aziraphale picked up on a note of uneasiness in his voice. 

“No, of course not, I only meant… the apples… wha- why?” he honestly wasn’t even sure what he had asked. It seemed as though his communication skills had packed up their things and left. 

“I s’pose ‘cause I wanted you to call me,” Anthony answered with an edge of harshness that was obviously trying to cover up the embarrassment he felt from admitting that. (Of course, this was not obvious to Aziraphale.)

“Oh…” Aziraphale said, feeling dumbstruck. “Why?” he repeated, knowing it made him sound like a curious toddler but not at all in the state of mind to care at the moment. 

Anthony made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a scoff. “I don’t know, Aziraphale! ‘Cause I wanted to get coffee with you, or go for a drive or- y’know, something like that…” he trailed off. He didn’t know why he was being so honest. No one had ever had this effect on him before. 

“Oh!” the English teacher said once more. “I think I’d quite like that,” he admitted coquettishly.

Anthony let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Good, I- that’s good. Good to hear. Good to know,” he had a lopsided grin on his face and was nodding his head like an idiot. He felt he was lucky Aziraphale couldn’t see him. 

“Yes, this is all very _good,”_ Aziraphale responded enthusiastically with only a slight amount of teasing for the excessive use of the word ‘good.’ If he was a walking thesaurus then Anthony was… whatever the opposite of a walking thesaurus might be. “It seems as though you make an excellent friend, Anthony,” he said with more sincerity. 

Aziraphale jumped slightly as his phone began to make loud coughing noises; it sounded as though Anthony had started to choke. “Oh, dear! Are you quite alright?” he asked anxiously. 

“‘M fine! ‘M fine,” Anthony managed to wheeze out. “Friends...” he hissed the word under his breath like it was something dirty he didn’t want to be caught saying (although, he actually had no qualms with saying things that someone like Aziraphale might consider “dirty”). 

“O-oh,” said Aziraphale, feeling disheartened. “I’m sorry. If we’re not friends yet, I unde-” he began an attempt to mend his previous statement, but apparently there was no need. 

“No! No, no, no, no. No, Aziraphale, we’re friends. For sure,” Anthony confirmed with another nod. 

“I see…” Aziraphale said, hesitant to fully believe him. If Anthony was of the opinion that they were friends then why would he utter the word with such disdain? “Well, if you’re certain…” his tone displaying his unease.

“I am. I’m telling you, without a doubt in my mind, that we are friends,” he spoke the words sharply, but the genuine sentiment that they held had Aziraphale flushed. 

“Oh, well that’s just - that really is quite lovely,” he said with a small joyful smile.

Anthony hummed. “Y’know what else sounds lovely?” he asked. 

“Whatever do you have in mind, my dear fellow?” Aziraphale asked, slightly teasing, but on the edge of his seat nonetheless. 

“Er…” the history teacher _really_ hadn’t thought this through. And it didn’t help that Aziraphale had called him something as endearing as “my dear fellow.” The man was too cute. And Crowley’s mind was getting out of sorts because of it. “Making plans… with you,” Crowley awkwardly spewed, while his mind yelled, _SATAN! YOU SOUNDED LIKE AN IDIOT. MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST HANG UP NOW AND SAVE YOURSELF THE-_

Aziraphale giggled. “Yes, I have to agree, that does sound rather nice,” he said, beaming.

“Ngk. Did you… did you have anything in mind?” he asked, because apparently his brain had remembered some very important business it had to attend to, and left him to fend for himself. 

“Well…” Aziraphale said, thankfully going along with his messy attempt at making plans. “I had been looking for an excuse to visit the art museum that’s in this town,” he said. Honestly, he had been planning to go alone some weekend and had just never gotten around to it, but it would be nice to go with Anthony. 

“Mmm!” Anthony hummed eagerly. “I’m down. Sounds great. Big art fan, me,” he said, tapping his fingers excitedly. 

“Wonderful!” responded Aziraphale.

“Are you… free tomorrow?” Anthony asked. His tongue felt thick, like it had never formed these words before; like planning things was a novel concept to him. 

“Yes, I am,” the English teacher answered. 

“Cool. Should I pick you up around… 12?” he hoped that was a normal-sounding time. Not too early, not too late…

“Yes, that sounds perfect, thank you!” Aziraphale responded. 

He heard Anthony let out a sigh of relief. “Good,” he said with another audible smile. “I’ll see you then.” 

“Yes,” the English teacher was beaming. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Anthony,” he wiggled in excitement. 

Aziraphale heard a wobbly sounding, “Mmhmmm!” before the history teacher had hung up on him. 

He let out a contented sigh and took a sip from his previously forgotten cocoa. He smiled, despite it only being lukewarm. This was all working out to be quite splendid! Aziraphale had figured out the numbers, they were Anthony’s _phone number_ and they had now officially been declared friends. If that wasn’t worth celebrating, what was? Instead of Beethoven, Aziraphale put on some Schubert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to leave me comments or kudos they would be deeply appreciated <3 Thank you so much for reading and for sticking with this story :)


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